Jon Brion

Intonation Festival, Chicago, IL: 25 June 2006

Intonation handed The Guy Who Did the Music for The Break-Up a much tougher gig than his guaranteed-sellout residency at L.A.'s Largo. Wedged between legendary grunge-fathers Blue Cheer and legendary drunk-father Robert Pollard, Jon Brion made history for the buzzing Sunday crowd in the only other way there is: By having pretty much no plan whatsoever.

Brion looked excited and flushed in grey suit and cartoony T-shirt as he announced his customary lack of a setlist. Which meant that anything might happen. Which it did. "Let's have some requests," he urged. Billie Holiday balladry appeared early in the form of "Foolin' Myself", performed solo (the regular kind of solo) by Brion on guitar. A mohawked stagehand scurried about, preparing and repairing a confusion of guitars, pedals, toy piano, drum set, and knobs with red lights near them. Of these, Brion built sampled and looped "solo" versions of his own material: end a song, jog to the drum stool, kick up a furious rhythm loop, hurry across stage to add a layer of piano, grab a new guitar and strap it on with just enough wind left to belt out the first line of, say, "Knock Yourself Out".

Midway through his set, Brion worshipfully invited to the stage one Benmont Tench (Brion-at-Largo mainstay; piano for Tom Petty's Heartbreakers; and on about 900 other records you've heard). No Midwestern human could've looked more ecstatic than Brion himself at witnessing Tench's inimitable rock'n'roll keys recreate Brion originals in real time. Then, from the Vice stage across the park, Robert Pollard's soundcheck drummer distracted Brion. "No, keep going," he responded, before molding that faraway kickdrum into a gasp-inducing 20-second version of The Zombies' "Tell Her No". The 1960s covers deluge dropped then, as Zombie-charmer "This Will Be Our Year" brought Wilco drummer Glenn Kotche from the crowd to the drum kit. "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" and "Baby You're a Rich Man" left flabbergasted fans little choice but to chant Dylan and Beatles poetry back at the weirdest power trio in town. Finale "I Believe She's Lying" was both built and morphed by Brion's obvious exhaustion, culminating in his "frustrated artist" kick to the toy piano, deafeningly powerful guitar-screed coda, and massive noisy loops, prompting possibly the longest Inton-ovation yet awarded any performer...as well as the festival's first true encore.

Brion must've glimpsed a dying sun across Ashland Avenue just before inviting his impromptu band back for what he confidently considers the "most beautiful song ever written": The Kinks' "Waterloo Sunset". After that thrilling cool-down, he left Chicago with a request of his own: That we enjoy our city, one of the "last unique ones left." Lingering also was the comforting proof that tendonitis in his strumming hand, Hollywood paychecks, and the controlled Largo environment might never keep Brion from emerging now and then to surprise the hell out of himself and anyone else within earshot.